Chapter 80
Margot asked, “You’ve been a full–time housewife since graduation?”
Margot barely glanced at Calista. The disdain in her voice was unmistakable.
“Yes.”
Calista didn’t bother defending herself. It wasn’t something she was proud of, but she wasn’t about
to lie either.
Looking back, if she could go back in time, she would likely still make the same decision.
Back then, she had been so hopelessly drawn to Lucien. She had needed him–desperately and irrationally. It went beyond just love or infatuation. It was something darker, something obsessive.
Her attachment had been so consuming that it felt like an illness, one without a cure or logic.
Margot didn’t respond. She simply pulled off her glasses and pressed her fingertips to her temples
with a weary sigh.
Calista caught that look and instantly understood. That silence said more than any scolding could.
Margot was clearly at a loss for words.
“What a waste. You had every other option, and you chose to be a housewife. Absolutely foolish,”
she muttered after a beat.
Margot was straightforward. She wasn’t the type to talk behind people’s backs. If she had something to say, she said it outright–even if it was cutting.
But thankfully, she only muttered the comment under her breath. A moment later, she turned and
waved over someone busy working nearby. “Roxanne, come here for a second.”
A woman with polished makeup and a sleek ponytail walked over, offering a practiced smile.
Yes, Ms. Blanton? What do you need?”
“This one…” Margot began speaking as she glanced back at Calista, clearly having already forgotten her name.
“Calista,” she said, offering the name herself with a polite nod.
“Right, Calista. Roxanne, you’ll be showing her around. Walk her through the systems, contact databases, basic onboarding–everything she needs to get up to speed. I’ve got other matters to deal with, so she’s yours now.”
Calista answered without much thought, naming her alma mater.
Back then, she had still been living in Brego, attending a decent but unremarkable college. Compared to the elite–tier schools revered by the upper class in Dorcan, hers didn’t carry much weight.
The moment Roxanne realized Calista came from a modest background–and that her outfit matched it–she practically rolled her eyes.
“Great. Another headache,” she muttered with a sigh, just loud enough to be heard.
She didn’t bother hiding the disdain. Turning away, she waved vaguely toward a workstation tucked in the far corner of the room.
“You can sit over there. I’ll find something for you to do later.”
Calista followed the direction Roxanne pointed in and saw the spot she was being given–right next to the trash bin.
“What? Not happy with it?”
Roxanne caught the hesitation in Calista’s eyes. She planted one hand on her hip and let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
“People from schools like yours don’t usually get in here. I’ve no idea how you landed this gig, but since you’re here, you’d better learn to be grateful. Got it?”
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